


Fifty Shades of Fucked Up

by QuidnamInferorum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 50 Shades of Grey Parody, Alternate Universe, Crack, F/M, Gross Kinks, Reader-Insert, kinkshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuidnamInferorum/pseuds/QuidnamInferorum
Summary: Dean Winchester has some very singular kinks. This is seriously gross, fair warning. And very tongue in cheek. And shits on FSoG a lot.





	Fifty Shades of Fucked Up

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is what happens when @kayteonline, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, and I have a group chat. And then Kayte sends me this. What was I supposed to do?! @saxxxology is sad that she wasn’t in the group chat, but she was in England without us, so fuck her.

Dean Winchester was the most eligible bachelor in the entire world. One of the richest men on the planet, regularly topping Forbes’ Top 100 Most Influential People, and unfairly gorgeous to boot, any woman in her right mind would be at the very least moist if he was within sight.

Even Y/N was not immune.

When she’d fallen face first into his office for an interview like she was a damsel in a terrible romance novel, her panties were ruined. Then he began answering her terrible questions, and he actually seemed to be flirting with her.

She was an average-looking English student who, for some reason, didn’t understand how early twenty-somethings worked, almost like she was written by a housewife who still called it “The Facebook.”

With almost no real personality and looking more like a mouse than a human, why on earth would Dean fucking Winchester be interested in her?

It made absolutely no sense.

But, here they were, in his stupidly amazing loft, furiously making out. He had her pinned against the wall, using every glorious inch of his broad, toned body to hold her down. She couldn’t escape even if she tried and, though that should’ve terrified her because he was definitely a sociopath, it instead went right to her panties. She had to press her thighs together to alleviate some of the burning desire curling up inside her.

His plush lips kissed and nipped at every inch of skin he found, going from her lips to her jaw to her neck and ever downwards. She tugged at his tie, snatching it from his neck.

That seemed to snap him out of his reverie, and he pulled back just enough to remain close to her, but far enough that she couldn’t recapture his lips with her own. “Wait,” he said breathlessly.

“Why?” she whimpered.

“There’s something you should know about me.”

Immediately, her thoughts went to the worst place. “Oh god, you have herpes, don’t you?”

“What?” he frowned, his perfect face marred by his confusion. “No, I’m clean. I’m not—I always use protection.”

“Oh, okay. Good. Awesome.”

“No,” he started again. “My desires are…unconventional.”

“So show me,” Y/N whispered.

With that, Dean took her hand and led him down the halls of his loft. He didn’t stop until they reached the end of the hall, turning his deep emerald eyes to her, as though he wasn’t sure she was still following him. She responded by squeezing his hand, lightly. She even smiled softly, like she was trying to comfort him, though she was nervous as all hell herself at the moment.

He pushed the door open slowly, revealing the master bedroom. It was gorgeous, full of modern furniture swatched in shades of grey. She was pulled past the bed towards a non-descript, slightly open white door on the other end of the large room.

He opened it to reveal a lavish bathroom, with a luxury glass shower and even a bath tub with jets inside it. Y/N melted just at looking the gorgeous room.

Dean finally pulled her to the shower, only letting go of her hand once they were at the door. He leaned in, grabbing a plain bottle from the bottom of the shower. She frowned, taking the bottle when it was handed to her, but mostly just looking as confused as she felt. “What is this?”

“It’s a shampoo bottle.”

There was a pause as she tried to figure out what the hidden meaning was. “Okay…”

She refused to look at him, but she could feel his gaze practically burning through her hand where she held the bottle. “I like to have sex, then finish in the girl’s hair. Then I have to watch her use my cum as shampoo.”

The sentence had barely left his lips before Y/N was at the toilet, vomiting up every single thing she’d ever eaten in her entire life. She was pretty sure she saw her ninth birthday cake make an appearance.

Dean waited by the shower as she vomited, shifting his feet awkwardly.

When Y/N finally was done worshipping the porcelain God, she turned to Dean.

“That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s just—”

“No, no!” she shouted. “Don’t say it, I’ll throw up again.”

“I really think you’re acting childish.”

“And I think you’re a sick fuck,” she retorted, pushing herself up on wobbly knees. “I am so out of here.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, no way are you hot enough for this shit.”

“I’m handsome, I’m rich, and—”

“And a sick fuck,” she breezed right past him.

Dean sputtered for a moment, unsure how exactly this was happening to him. After a beat of silence, he ran after her, chasing her to his combination front door/elevator.

She was inside, viciously attacking the lobby button, and he barely made it in time.

“Please,” he began, looking like a kicked puppy. “Please don’t go.”

“No,” she shook her head almost violently. “No, you are not rich or hot or anything enough for-for…God, you’re a pervert.”

“I really don’t—it’s really not that bad.”

“‘Not that bad?!’” Y/N screeched loud enough to almost break the glass wall that gave a spectacular view of the city below them. “You want me to wash—and I use that term very loosely—my hair in your semen?!”

“Well, you have to understand, my mother—”

“No, just because something shitty happened to you doesn’t mean you get to be a sick fuck,” Y/N cut him off. “So, you know, thanks, but, also, maybe go fuck yourself.”

With that, the doors to the elevator closed, leaving Dean Winchester with one last image of the girl who got away: Y/N trying not to vomit in the elevator.


End file.
